


Stray Dogs

by rose_griffes



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alien Technology, Gen, secretly an alien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 07:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_griffes/pseuds/rose_griffes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finch is secretly an alien, Martha is his doctor, Reese is clueless.  Doctor Who/Person of interest crossover fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stray Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> Written mid-season one of _Person of Interest_ (and posted to my livejournal). I really loved the idea that Martha could be in modern-day New York. Not likely to make much sense if you don't know both fandoms, sorry.

There were voices--plural--coming from the center of the library. John paused and listened before taking his next step. Finch's voice: he sounded calm, if querulous. The other speaker was a woman with an English accent.

He wasn't close enough to understand their conversation, so he moved forward silently, listening as intently as possibly. A high-pitched whir and then the woman laughed. "Mickey," she said--or was it Ricky?--and then something that sounded like _reverse engineering_.

"...better," said Finch. John was getting close enough to start understanding more, but Finch's voice suddenly dropped. Reese couldn't make out anything for a few seconds.

He wondered if he'd been heard, but that wasn't possible. He hadn't made any noise. The woman spoke again. "You know you could avoid most of this."

"I'm busy," answered Harold, peevish. "And not all of us have the extra time."

The woman laughed again quietly. "Time isn't as flexible as it used to be for me, either. Strictly linear lately." She paused and added something else that John couldn't hear.

Silence again for a moment, and the noise of a zipper closing. Then Finch said clearly, "We've been waiting for you, John."

 _It's inhuman_ , thought Reese. Harold had an uncanny sense of... space or movement or hearing. Something. Few people ever sensed John's presence if he didn't want them to.

Reese walked into the center of the library. "Hey, Harold," he said, feeling abashed. Standing next to Finch was a petite black woman with a strikingly pretty face. She was wearing a lab coat over practical clothing. Completing the medical look, she had a black bag at her feet. It was closed; nothing about the shape gave away its contents, other than it was too short for an assembled rifle.

Harold was sitting in his usual chair. "Nice of you to finally join us," he said. John didn't miss the unspoken condemnation of his eavesdropping. He also didn't miss Finch's decrease in pain; the usual signs were greatly diminished from the last time he'd seen him.

"I didn't realize you were expecting company, Finch."

Finch didn't reply to that leading statement. Instead he said, "John, this is Martha. Martha, John is an associate of mine."

First names only for both of them, Reese noticed. They shook hands. "So do you live in the States or are you just visiting?"

"Don't answer that," said Harold before the woman could give a reply.

"I see what you mean," Martha said, glancing at Finch with an amused look on her face. They'd been talking about him, then. "Perhaps I should give him my number, since _you_ never call when things get bad."

"Only if you want him tracking your phone," retorted Finch.

"Maybe I do." She made the statement with a flirtatious glance in John's direction.

"Uh." Reese couldn't think of anything to say, and Martha's eyes crinkled at the corners.

Harold answered, "You _really_ don't."

Martha laughed. "Someone might object, anyway." For a moment Reese envied the man who put that goofy smile on her face. "Speaking of him, it's past time for me to leave." She leaned forward and gave Finch a peck on the cheek, to John's surprise. "Take better care of yourself," she admonished.

Finch gave her a look that John deciphered as, _I'll think about it._

Martha grabbed her bag--not very heavy, John noted--and said, "You make sure that he does," to John.

Reese's lip twitched, resulting in an exasperated sigh from Martha as she left.

"She seems nice," John said.

"She's a busybody. And brilliant." The last part was said with a begrudgingly admiring tone.

John thought about trying to confirm whether the name he'd heard Martha mention was Ricky or Mickey, but Finch forestalled him. "We have a new number, Mister Reese."

Right. Back to work. John filed away the information for later exploration: _Martha, medical professional, native to and probably residing in the UK, a co-worker or other named Ricky or Mickey._

If he could find out more about her background, it might lead to more information about the enigma that was Harold Finch.

**Author's Note:**

> Martha speaking to Professor Yana in 3.11: "The Doctor sort of travels through time and space and picks us up. God, I make us sound like stray dogs. Maybe we are."
> 
> With what she's experienced in her life, I have no doubt Martha herself will be picking up stray dogs--er, aliens--in many places.


End file.
